


Cherub of the Sun

by Vingtieme



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vingtieme/pseuds/Vingtieme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Embarrassed by L'Ami's drunken talk of women in the back of the Musain, Enjolras bursts out into the driving rain. Combeferre comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherub of the Sun

It was a stormy night in Paris, and L’Amis du ABC were all cozied up in the back room of the Musain. It had approached the hour when the conversation had drifted well away from politics and the republique, and everyone had had slightly too much to drink. Louison came in to tell them that they could stay till the storm let up, and everyone rather sleepily cheered. As she exited the room, Courfeyrac heaved a sigh and said, rather like he was proposing a toast, “Women…” Everyone nodded their assent to whatever this might have meant. Rather unfortunately, Courfeyrac continued, feeling overly philosophical. “Ah, women. The true beauty of the world. What would we men do without them? For the tread of their feet, on the ground sounds so sweet, and they…” At this, Courfeyrac was at a drunken loss for words, and mumbled about until he gave up on the hope of sounding profound, and simply said, “And they’re damn good in bed!”

This, of course, caused an uproar of approving laughter. Bahorel shouted, “Well said, Courfeyrac!” and Jehan, wishing his poetry would be praised so well as Courfeyrac’s disgusting attempt, pouted, and mumbled an upset little, “At the touch of love _everyone_ becomes a poet.”

“Oy! You aren’t going after Louison, are you Courfeyrac?! Goodness knows how many mistresses you’ve got already!” Feuilly shouted over the laughter.

Courfeyrac took mock offense at this comment, and said in his best affronted tone, “Why I would never sleep around like that Feuilly, surely you know that!” This caused even more laughter and it only died down when Courfeyrac waved it down saying, “No, no, but quite seriously, I’ve got this lovely new Spanish grissette with a dark exotic air about her. She’s gorgeous.”

“Aw, come on Courfeyrac, no one wants to hear about your sex life!” Shouted Joly from the corner. “And anyway, my Musichetta surpasses any of your women any day.”

“Ha! Not so!” cried Bossuet, who was in the same corner as Joly. “You’ve met my Collette! What a head of flaming hair!”

“Well at least that makes up for your lack thereof,” came Bahorel’s snide comment from the far side of the table. Everyone laughed good spiritedly at this, even Bossuet.

Jehan, who was still sulking in the corner, interrupted with, “Well, my Gabrielle has a face like a china doll’s, perfectly framed by her lovely yellow curls. Her eyes are blue as the sky and – ” At this point he was cut off by Feuilly’s laugh of, “Why she sounds just like Enjolras!”

Everyone laughed, barring Jehan, who blushed and pouted, feeling snubbed; and, of course, Enjolras, whose cheeks flushed red. This contrasted rather interestingly with his scowl. He had been pointedly ignoring the conversation up till then by attempting to maintain his planning with Combeferre, but now his attempts were foiled.

“Come now, Enjolras, we’re only poking fun!” Courfeyrac amended mildly. “I’m sure even Combeferre has had a mistress who looks like you.” This attempted continuation of the joke did nothing to soothe Enjolras’s livid expression. The worst part was that Courfeyrac didn’t seem to notice, and prodded further, saying, “I’m sure even _you_ have had a woman as cherubic as yourself!” Courfeyrac grinned quixotically, evidently a bit too tipsy to watch his tongue around Enjolras.

Enjolras had had enough and practically growled at Courfeyrac, “My only love is the republique!” Courfeyrac only giggled at this aggression and cooed, “Aww, come on, Enjy, what was she like? Did she live up to her angelic looks? Or did she scream your name like a little whore?” Enjolras looked genuinely shocked and confused, and was not at all pleased with the direction this conversation was going. “Was she sweet and soft, like a doll?” Enjolras looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Or did she claw your back till the blood ran and – ”

“THAT’S ENOUGH COURFEYRAC!” Combeferre came to the rescue, and the whole room was deathly silent. Courfeyrac looked up into Enjolras’ flushed and innocent face, wrought with embarrassment and confusion, and he gasped with the realization.

“Oh… Oh, Mon Dieu Enjolras. You’re a virgin, aren’t you? Oh I’m so sorry, I was just – ” Enjolras burst out of the café and ran away through the pouring rain, and into the dark night.

“Great job Courfeyrac! Look what you’ve done!” Combeferre snapped.

“How the hell was I supposed to know he was a virgin?! Look at him! He’s practically a god!” (At this everyone briefly looked around for Grantaire’s Apollo reference, but he was currently passed out in a corner.)

“Yes, well, now he’ll likely catch his death of cold, and I shall have to go fetch him. No, Courfeyrac, leave well enough alone! I’ll see you all Thursday.” Combeferre pulled on his coat and put on his hat, grabbed Enjolras’, which he had left draped over his chair in his mad dash, and headed out into the storm. The wind was blowing sheets of icy rain into his face, and he grieved for Enjolras, and how cold he would be. Damn that Courfeyrac!

After a 15 minute walk, Combeferre finally came to Enjolras’ flat. It was empty. Combeferre’s heart sank. This meant that Enjolras was still out in the cold. He hadn’t been serious when he’d made that comment about “catching his death” to Courfeyrac. It was more of a guilt trip. But now he feared it could become a reality. Combeferre tore madly back out into the rain.

He knew just where his friend would be. On the bench by the river where they often sat to think and converse on nice sunny days in the spring. It was a special place for them, for it was the place where they’d met.

One cloudy day in May, soon after Combeferre had come to Paris, he had taken a fancy to an afternoon stroll by the Seine. He missed Provence terribly, and longed to bask in the southern sun. In Paris, it was almost always grey and gloomy, and Combeferre had to take advantage of every little scrap of sunshine that came his way.  But sometimes he longed for the sun so much that being outside in the open air had to suffice. By some fortunate accident, he had dropped his watch, and when he bent to pick it up, another hand met his. He looked up, and his soul was set afire.

Glorious blue eyes, and a golden mane of hair had taken his breath away. Enjolras was like the Provençal sun itself.  After this meeting, the two young students met often. Enjolras had introduced Combeferre to his politics, and their friendship had blossomed. And, deep within Combeferre’s heart, he knew that this friendship had then continued on to bloom into a “deep red rose of love.” (Let us excuse Combeferre’s abysmal attempt at poetry. He is only a med student after all.) He would never have said it aloud, but Combeferre could honestly admit to himself that Enjolras was the best friend he’d ever had, and that he loved his revolutionary angel more than anything. Combeferre would follow Enjolras to the grave. It had deeply grieved him to see his friend so vulnerable in the Musain tonight. So it nearly broke his heart when he saw his friend’s sodden form lying listless upon the very wooden seat where they had sat in happy conversation so many days.

As Combeferre approached near enough to see his beautiful friend, he gasped. Enjolras looked dead. His lips were blue, and his arm was hanging lifelessly off the seat where he lay. The only sign that his best friend had not frozen to death were the intense shudders that wracked Enjolras’ body. Combeferre rushed to his side and shook him. “Enjolras! Enjolras! Wake up!” But his friend did not stir. Combeferre frantically raced to wrap Enjolras in his coat, and hoisted him into his arms. The revolutionary was heavy, but not horribly so. Combeferre was sure he could make it. But as Combeferre gazed down at his best friend’s drenched body, it was all he could do not to burst into tears.

He carried Enjolras as fast as he could back to Enjolras’ flat, which was the closest of the two.  By some miracle, he managed to carry his friend all the way there. He hoisted Enjolras through the door, stripped him out of his wet clothes, and tucked him under the blankets. He then started up the fire.

But it wasn’t going to be enough. Enjolras was fading fast. Combeferre, knowing what he had to do, stripped himself down to the skin and climbed under the covers with his angelic leader.

He gasped. Enjolras’s body was freezing to the touch. He had to get his friend warm. He just had to. He wrapped his arms around Enjolras and pulled him close. Enjolras moaned pitifully and blinked up at his dear friend. “C-c-combef-ferre,” he shivered. “I’m s-so c-c-cold.”

“Shh, it’ll be alright Enjolras. You’ll be warm soon.” Combeferre was trying desperately to keep the panic out of his voice.

“C-combferre. I-I’m s-sorry I embarrassed you tonight. I should h-have kn-nown…but it scared me what C-Courfeyrac was saying. I w-was embarrassed.”

“Virginity is no shame, Enjolras. It is the purest state of man.”

“B-but C-Combeferrre. I’m…It’s unnatural. I’ve n-never wanted a woman before. Is there s-something wrong with m-me? C-Combferre, if I die, I want you t-to kn-now – ”

“You’re not going to die!”

“I want y-you t-to know that I love you!” Enjolras continued determinedly.

Combeferre was nearly in tears.“Oh, Enjolras, I love you too! You are my dearest friend!”

“No, C-Combferre! Listen! I c-can’t k-keep this hidden any l-longer! I c-can’t b-betray your t-trust! I kn-now you’ll p-probably h-hate me, but I n-need to t-tell you!”

Combeferre listened with rapt attention.

“I…th-the reason I d-don’t desire women is th-that I d-desire… m-men.” Enjolras looked down, ashamed. It seemed as if it had taken all of his strength to say that, but still he continued. “And I l-love you with all m-my heart C-Combeferre – Etienne. Achilles could n-not have loved his P-Patroclus better. But I also d-desire you.” Enjolras had started crying by now. “And I – I think y-you’re b-beautiful and – you can go n-now and leave me. Just leave me here to d-die,” he finished in despair.

But Combeferre did not do as Enjolras had asked. Instead, he lifted his angel’s face to his own, and kissed him with all his heart. Enjolras did not know what do, but he caught on in a moment, and returned Combferre’ kiss with equal fervor.

Combeferre rolled on top of his love and kissed him passionately and, desperate for more contact, his hips bucked into Enjolras’. Enjolras gasped, breaking away from the kiss. The feelings were all new to him. “Combeferre…” whispered Enjolras in awe.

They were both breathing hard, their faces an inch apart, and their bodies pressed against each other, skin to skin. “Enjolras,” Combferre began. “Mon cher, Julien. I have loved you always.” Not knowing what else to say, he kissed Enjolras gently and chastely on the lips. With that simple gesture, he could say everything that words could not. He caressed Enjolras’s face, and wiped away the tears with his thumb. Then he kissed his angel’s cheeks, his forehead, his chin, his eyelids, his nose – everywhere his lips could touch, and then finally back to Enjolras’s cherubic mouth. Not blue anymore, but kissed red.

Combeferre kissed his love gently at first, and slowly the kiss deepened. For a long time they were like that, lazily exploring one another’s mouth, and only pausing to breathe. Combeferre relished running his fingers through Enjolras’s damp golden curls. When Combeferre finally pulled away, it elicited a little whimper from Enjolras. Combeferre promptly apologized by nipping at his lover’s neck. He nipped, sucked and kissed Enjolras’s neck and shoulder, nuzzled his nose into a fine dusting of golden chest hair, and then moved on to tease Enjolras’ nipples. Enjolras moaned softly as Combeferre sucked on the hardened pink buds. Combeferre kissed down the line of hair on Enjolras’s abdomen, and stopped to look up at his virginal lover before he continued. He did not want to take things faster than Enjolras was ready to take them.

“Julien, do you want me to…?”

Enjolras flushed in embarrassment, but nodded vigorously. “Please, Etienne, I want – I need…”

Combeferre did not need to be asked twice. It was obvious that Enjolras’ arousal required urgent attention. He did not waste time teasing. That would be for another day, and a far more experienced lover. He engulfed Enjolras in one swift motion. “Oh, Etienne!” cried Enjolras as he threw his head back onto the pillows. Combeferre sucked hard, and Enjolras arched his back in pleasure, and tangled his fingers into Combeferre’s hair. Combeferre smiled around Enjolras’ cock at the sight of his lover quickly falling to pieces beneath his touch, and sped up his movements.

“Oh, Etienne I’m – ” Enjolras uttered a strangled cry as he came. Combeferre slid off of him and swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry Etienne, I – ” Enjolras said in embarrassment.

“Shhh, It’s quite alright mon amour. It’s natural.” Combeferre climbed up to Enjolras and held him close, burying his face in the crook of his neck and inhaling Enjolras’ golden scent.

They stayed like that for a moment before Enjolras noticed Combeferre’s condition and gasped and said, “Oh, but Etienne! You are still – I should do something about – I mean – ”

“No, no Cheri,” Combeferre began kindly, “only you now. I could not ask you to – ”

“No, Etienne,” Enjolras said firmly. “I love you, and I will show it!” And he promptly grabbed Combeferre’s needy cock and took up rough strokes. Combeferre bucked into the pleasure, and gasped, and moaned, “Julien!” If anything was clear, it was that despite Enjolras’ pure and untainted state, he still knew how to masturbate. Combeferre clung desperately to his lovely angel, and moaned uninhibited moans.

            Combeferre could feel the pressure building in his abdomen and cried out, “Oh, Julien, I’m going to cum!”

            At this Enjolras promptly stopped his stroking, which earned a desperate moan of disapproval from his needy lover. “Etienne,” Enjolras said, his voice heavy with seriousness, “I want you to take me.”

Combeferre’s dark green eyes widened in surprise, and he looked into his lover’s blue ones, searching them for truth. All he found was dead seriousness. “Julien, are you sure? It will hurt, and – ”

            “Etienne, I am sure. I love you. I want to be one with you. Please, take me.”

            Combeferre looked into his lovers eyes, and saw that this must be true. So, slowly and reverently, he climbed on top of his lover and gazed down. What he saw was beautiful. There was Enjolras, his best friend, and his love, lying beneath him. His hair was fanned out about him in a golden halo, his darling curls in disarray. He was gorgeously flushed, his lips cherry red, and his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. His body was pure muscle, lean, as it rippled beneath pale skin. Combeferre was amazed that such beauty could ever be his.

            He leaned over and grabbed the oil out of his medicine bag that was lying beside the bed, and slathered it over his fingers. “Are you ready, Amour?” Enjolras closed his eyes and nodded. Combeferre spread his lover’s leg and traced around his entrance. He put the first finger in and Enjolras tensed. “Shh, love, relax.” Combeferre soothed. He slowly added a second finger and scissored, and Enjolras did his best to ignore the discomfort. Combeferre wanted Enjolras to be as prepared as possible, so as not to hurt him, and so added a third finger. At that point his finger brushed Enjolras’ prostate, and the blonde shivered in pleasure.

Combeferre slid his fingers out and coated his cock in the remaining oil. He positioned himself at Enjolras’ entrance. Enjolras gave a swift nod to show he was ready, and Combeferre eased himself into his lover. He saw stars. Enjolras was so deliciously tight it was all he could do to maintain control, and not to start thrusting wildly into the pleasure. But the thought of tears on that angelic face was all he needed to keep himself in check.

Slowly, he started to move. He brushed Enjolras prostate again, and his beautiful blonde moaned in pleasure. Enjolras bucked, and moaned, “Faster, Etienne.” Combeferre was only too happy to oblige. Faster and faster they moved together, not two separate beings anymore, but one. With a final scream, they came together. Combeferre collapsed on top of Enjolras both breathing hard. He kissed his love, slid out of him, and held him close.

“I love you Julien,” Combeferre whispered reverently into his lover’s ear.

“I love you too, Etienne,” Enjolras replied, nuzzling into Combeferre’s chest. “And Etienne – ?”

“Yes?” Combeferre prompted curiously.

“I’m not cold anymore.”

Combeferre smiled down at his darling Julien, and kissed him chastely upon the lips, vowing silently never to leave his side. They drifted off to sleep to the sound of the icy rain pounding on the windows, but they knew that they would never be cold again.


End file.
